


Born to be Yours

by MellytheHun



Series: Tumblr Sterek Prompts [19]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bossy Derek Hale, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fic, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tumblr Prompt, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Dechainedgoddess prompted me: Consider? You know how Stiles is never shirtless? What if the pack tried to find out why and it had something to do with Derek? That even Scott after he became a wolf hadnt seen him shirtless?





	Born to be Yours

Kira is the one who unintentionally calls attention to Stiles’ skin, first.

“Wow, you’re so freckly!” she chirps.

Under the relentless sun, Stiles is wearing a no-sleeve shirt, and looking generally unhappy in the suffocating, summer air.

He grabs both his elbows in a futile effort to disguise the freckles on his arms.

Kira is smiling at him, though, and assures him, “no, no! I don't mean to embarrass you! They’re cute! I like freckles, I think they look nice! I just didn’t realize you had them on your arms too, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen your arms before!”

Stiles continues to look unhappy, and now self-conscious.

Lydia comes to stand next to Stiles, and asks, “are you freckled _everywhere_?”

Stiles makes a strangled noise.

"Not _everywhere_ , I just — what kinda line of questioning is this?”

Scott chuckles, and tells Lydia, “he’s got dots all over his back too.”

Stiles looks positively betrayed, and tells Scott, “I’m supposed to grow out of them! They fade with time, they’ll go away.”

"Wishful thinking,” Lydia assumes.

“Can’t we embarrass someone else today?” Stiles complains.

Derek cocks a brow at Scott, who explains, “Stiles hates the heat. He’s just cranky.”

“My emotions are still valid, dickhead,” Stiles mutters, pulling his arms into his shirt like a child.

“You know,” Scott starts curiously, “I don’t think I’ve even seen your back in like… years.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles scoffs, “We’re in the locker room together all the time?”

“Yeah, but I never actually see you change,” Scott says, sounding strangely disappointed.

“Sounds like someone who has something to hide,” Lydia asserts.

The Weres hear the stumble of Stiles’ heart.

Derek and Scott exchange a significant glance.

Stiles rolls his eyes, and lies, “like I could have anything worth hiding from werewolves, and banshees.”

 

* * *

 

“Maybe he’s just self conscious,” Kira offers.

“Maybe he has a third nipple,” Isaac supplies over the phone.

The Pack (minus Stiles) is situated around Scott’s kitchen table, wondering what Stiles might hide from them under his shirt.

“Maybe it’s a tattoo,” Lydia guesses.

“First of all, Stiles doesn’t know what shame is,” Scott starts skeptically, “He definitely doesn’t have a third nipple, and I would’ve smelled the ink on him if he’d gotten a tattoo.”

Scott looks to Derek for help. 

Derek suggests, “maybe it’s a scar.”

That piques the interest of the Pack.

Scott’s expression turns worried, and everything is silent until Isaac’s voice crackles over the speaker, “leave it to Derek to drop a grand piano on the mood.”

 

* * *

 

**Plan A**

At the mall, Lydia insists on treating Stiles to a new wardrobe.

He’s hesitant at first, but then decides some high top converse, and new jeans would really please him. He takes her up on the offer, and the Pack follows close behind.

She talks him into a few shirts, but he absolutely refuses to take his own shirt off outside the dressing room, and comes dangerously close to slamming the changing room door in Lydia’s face. 

Stiles leaves the mall with three new shirts, two new pairs of jeans, and new converse.

The rest of the Pack leaves with Plan A crossed out on their iPhone notepads.

Scott texts Derek that Plan A failed.

**Derek: I told you it would**

 

* * *

 

**Plan B**

“Oh, gosh! I’m so sorry, Stiles,” Kira apologizes.

The Pack is helping Kira, and her mother garden in their front yard.

Kira is bad at pretending that she ‘accidentally,’ pointed the hose directly at Stiles, but Stiles seems to buy it anyway.

He looks down at his soaked shirt, and says, “don’t worry, it’s fine.”

He goes back to ripping out weeds, and Kira asks, "uhm… you don’t want to… uhm, change, or anything?”

“Pfft,” Stiles dismisses, “It’s hot out, anyway. It’s a relief.”

Kira frowns at Scott over Stiles’ shoulders, and Lydia, from her perched seat on a lawn chair, texts Derek that Plan B failed.

**Tall Dark & Handsome: I don’t know why you all don’t just listen to me**

 

* * *

 

**Plan C**

“Come in the water, Stiles!” Scott beckons.

Stiles is situated under the garish rainbow umbrella, looking pleased to be in the shade with Derek.

He sighs, and stands up, reluctantly going to Scott, in the water.

Just as Derek thinks Stiles is about to take off his shirt, he ignores it completely, and starts walking toward the water. 

Derek already knew this would happen, but he asks anyway, "you’re leaving your shirt on?”

Stiles looks over his shoulder, and gives an embarrassed smile, “oh, yeah, I like, burn from moonbeam exposure, so I keep a shirt on at the beach.”

He’s lying, but Derek doesn’t call him out on it. 

Once Stiles back is turned, Derek meets Scott’s eyes from the water, and says loud enough that Scott can hear, but soft enough that Stiles won’t, “I told you this wouldn’t work.”

 

* * *

 

**Plan D**

“The Hell are you doing!?” Stiles accuses an octave higher than his natural speaking voice.

Derek is standing a few feet behind, looking resigned, and embarrassed on Scott’s account.

Stiles doesn’t understand why he’s just allowing Scott to attack him, though.

“Dude, I have to jump you!” Scott insists, “This is crazy! What are you hiding?!”

“Nothing!” Stiles lies, gripping the hem of his shirt tightly to keep Scott from ripping it off.

They struggle on the ground of Stiles’ backyard for a few moments until Stiles shouts, “okay, okay! It’s because of my nipples!”

Scott sits upright, Stiles pinned beneath him. 

“…your nipples?”

“I feel weird about them,” Stiles elaborates.

“You feel weird about your nipples…" 

"Stop saying it like that!” Stiles groans in embarrassment.

Scott looks to Derek, but Derek’s eyebrows don’t offer any useful insight.

Scott looks down at Stiles again, and asks, “so, you don’t take off your shirt, because you feel weird about your _nipples_? Like, your nipples _feel_ weird? Or you have weird feelings _about_ your nipples?”

"Oh my _God_ ,” Stiles groans in annoyance, “Just let this go!”

Derek finally does something useful, and removes Scott from Stiles.

Stiles brushes himself off, and storms into his house, grumbling obscenities to himself. 

Scott looks to Derek, and Derek tells him, "will you let me do what I know will work?”

Scott sighs in defeat, and concedes, “fine.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles walks into his bedroom a few days later to find Derek already there.

His face falls after its initial surprise, and he mutters, “I really wish this were less normal.”

Derek sits a little straighter in Stiles’ computer chair, and orders gently, “take off your shirt.”

Stiles’ brows spring up, and his heart rate jumps. He goes from confused to suspicious in a split second.

“Why? Did Scott put you up to this?”

Derek stands up, and crowds Stiles against his closed bedroom door.

He keeps his hands in his jean pockets, and his eyes focused on Stiles’.

He’s breathing in the warm scent of Stiles’ breath, and skin so close.

He knows Stiles is watching his pupils dilate, because Stiles’ heartbeat and fascinated stare tell him so.

“Can I touch you?”

Stiles swallows loudly, and hesitates, but eventually nods. 

Derek moves his hands onto Stiles’ hips, but he doesn’t move them any further than that.

He moves his face closer, and comes to almost rest his forehead against Stiles’. Just a breadth of a hair apart. 

He knows what effect he has on Stiles.

He’s never abused it before, and he doesn’t intend to. 

Not when Stiles doesn’t know what effect he has on Derek.

“I’m worried about you.”

Stiles’ eyes take on a meaningful glisten, and his face softens.

His shoulders relax a little bit, and Derek closes the space between their heads, leaning his forehead against Stiles’. It’s tender, and intimate, and Stiles exhales shakily.

“You really want to see, don’t you?”

“I really want to make sure you’re okay,” Derek says firmly.

Derek is pushed back enough to give Stiles space to take his shirt off. He turns around, and allows Derek to see the space between his shoulder blades. 

A pattern is emerging there, cafe au lait spots taking on the shape of Derek’s tattoo.

He runs his hand over it reverently, and hears Stiles ask, “…do you know why?”

“You’re my Emissary,” Derek replies nearly inaudibly. 

Stiles’ hands on his hips, and he leans his head against his door with a sigh.

“That’s what all my research has said too.”

“So, this is what you’ve been hiding?” Derek inquires.

Stiles turns around and asks, “oh, I’m sorry, would _you_ like to explain this to Scott?”

Derek nods his understanding, and when a few more quiet moments pass, he admits, “I’m… sorry you didn’t ask for this. I know that if you had a choice, you'd choose Scott. And it's selfish... but I’m glad it’s you.”

Stiles’ heart doesn’t skip at all when he mutters gently, honestly, “yeah… me too.”


End file.
